


Fighting Is What We Do

by Macdragon



Category: Orphan Black (TV), Sense8 (TV)
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:26:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macdragon/pseuds/Macdragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Years ago, Wolfgang met someone who made quite the impression...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fighting Is What We Do

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Sumi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sumi/gifts).



Wolfgang washes the blood from his hands, the water running over his skin, hotter and hotter. He waits until the pain hits, and then he turns on the cold, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The white porcelain of the sink resolves itself in front of his eyes, visions of death and gore fading from his mind for now. 

Despite his mental distraction, his body is still humming with adrenaline. Exhaustion will set in later, he knows this. There is work to be done yet. He has to protect Felix. And somewhere in Iceland, Riley and Will are driving through the mountains. Maybe that's why his heart is pounding, his stomach twisting with anxiety. Wolfgang is used to killing by now, but Riley and Will being in danger is far more terrifying, making it so that he can't feel truly satisfied by Sergei's death. 

He glances in the mirror and sees movement behind him. His heart beats even harder, feeling like it's ready to fly into his throat. "Kala?" But in the next instant, he realizes it's not her, and his shoulders relax with a mix of regret and relief. 

“Impressive work.” Sun Bak is standing with her arms crossed. Their eyes meet in the mirror and Wolfgang turns around. He has an impression of the small room around her, actually not too different from the tiny, dank bathroom in his apartment. His knuckles hurt, and looking down, he sees that hers are bleeding. More blood. 

“It was normal,” Wolfgang says, flexing his own hands. “Although this was more elaborate than anything I’ve done before.” There isn’t any pride in the words. 

“The rest was just practice before entering the ring?” Sun Bak smiles, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. 

When he hugs her, it feels real, even though they’re not truly together. They’re all getting better at this, but he knows that he mostly has Kala to thank of that. But Wolfgang is shit at comforting people, and he moves back again, reflecting her stance with crossed arms. “My father is dead too.”

Something changes in her face, a slight twitch in her jaw. “But you do not miss him.” She looks away, and then her reflection disappears from the mirror. 

His breathing slows again, his heartbeat beginning to calm. But as his body relaxes, an emptiness fills his soul. He has eight souls to call his own, so why does he feel so alone right now? 

***

When he was a boy he was never alone, not after he met Felix. Before that, it had just been Wolfgang and his father, and the constant fear of his father’s anger, itself like a living beast. After he and Felix became friends, they spent most of their free time together. 

Felix was there when he saw the angel. 

They had snuck into a club together, slipping past the bouncer and hiding in the crowd. People seethed around them, dancing like the ebb and flow of the ocean. They didn’t want to risk buying alcohol, so they were sober, but the atmosphere and the fear of getting caught were heady enough. 

People were singing, badly, on the stage, mostly unnoticed. But when the angel stepped up to the microphone, he saw her. Wild hair, ragged dress, a look in her eye that Wolfgang could see even across the dance floor. She sang badly too, but something about her drew him in, like the sound of a lock slipping into place just right. 

When she got off the stage, he moved towards her, hoping to catch her before she disappeared. “Hey, Wolfie—“ He and Felix were separated, his friend swallowed by the shifting crowd. 

He almost collided with her. She was standing by the bar, still humming under her breath, swinging back and forth. Her eyes met with Wolfgang’s, and she smiled, showing her teeth. “Hello little boy.”

She spoke in heavily accented English. He guessed that she didn’t know German, and he did know a little English. “I liked your singing,” he said, lamely. Now that he was face to face with her, he wasn’t sure why he had wanted to talk to her. 

She seemed to consider him for a moment, and then she reached into the pocket of her floral dress and pulled out a photograph. “Do you know this woman?” She held out the picture. It was of a woman with short red hair and a sullen expression on her face. They had the same face; he supposed she was the curly-haired woman’s sister. Wolfgang shook his head. 

“But I’m good at finding things,” he found himself saying. “Tracking people down…” That was an exaggeration. He and Felix were just learning, picking up what they needed to know. That just meant he needed more practice, though. And helping a woman find her lost sister seemed like a nice way to do it.

“Follow me, little boy.” She crooked a finger at him and turned, not waiting to see if he obeyed. He did, trailing after her, out of the bustling club and into the night. In the light of a street lamp, she flipped the photograph over, letting him see the back. Wolfgang recognized an address a few streets away. 

“You take me here?” she asked. Something dangerous glinted in her eye, making Wolfgang’s heart pound. But she seemed so helpless; she barely even knew where they were. 

“Okay.” He glanced back over his shoulder, wondering if he should tell Felix where they were going, but it wouldn’t take long. “This way.” 

On a Saturday night, the streets were lively, but Wolfgang felt like he was on another plane, just him and the stranger. “What’s your name?” he asked. 

“What’s your name?” she shot back, grinning at him. 

“Wolfgang.” 

“Little wolf.” She giggled, the laugh high and piercing, then lowering into something that he supposed was meant to mimic a howl. Then her expression suddenly turned serious again. “Who hit you?” She pointed at his face. 

Wolfgang flinched. He had almost forgotten his black eye. He shook his head, unwilling to answer. She stopped in her tracks, crossing her arms and pouting at him. “It doesn’t matter,” he muttered. “Come on.” He kept going, and she seemed to give up, falling back into step beside him. 

He led the way to the apartment block, stopping at the front entrance. Now what? Helena walked up to the door, testing it. Of course, it was locked. But for Wolfgang, doors were never closed. He’d been practicing on safes, and houses were a piece of cake in comparison. Unfortunately, he didn’t have his lock picking kit with him. “I need a hair pin or something.”

She shook her head. With her wild hair, that wasn’t surprising. And he supposed she didn’t have paper clips either. “Or a credit card?” 

She grinned, reaching into her pocket and taking out a worn black wallet. The card she handed him had a man’s name on it. Wolfgang shook his head-—he could hardly judge. Leaning in close, he slid the plastic card into the door, wiggling it just so. There was a click, and the woman clapped delightedly. “No deadbolt,” Wolfgang remarked, swinging the door open. 

They stepped into the efficiency apartment together. Immediately, Wolfgang noticed that something was amiss. The closet was open, clothes on the floor. He ducked into the bathroom and didn’t see a toothbrush, and there was a musty smell, like the windows hadn’t been opened in a few days. “I think she left.” 

“No.” The denial was soft, almost a growl. The woman crouched down, muscles tensed as she surveyed the room. She bounded up again, circling the room, eyes wide. 

“I’m sorry,” Wolfgang said, already backing away. The mission complete, he felt like the spell was broken. She whirled on him, and he backed away. Seeing him cowering, she softened again, wrapping her arms around her middle. 

“I will not hurt you.” Composing herself, she stepped towards the door. “She will not be happy…”

Wolfgang didn’t know who she was talking about. He followed her, back into the street, leaving the door open behind them. "I'm sorry you didn't find your sister," Wolfgang repeated, wishing he could do something.

“You keep saying that. I have no sestra.” She cocked her head at him. “Why did you let someone hit you? You can fight back, I think.” 

“Not this person.” 

“You can fight anyone.” Even in the darkness, he thought he saw a flash of a grin. “I can tell you-—tonight, I was going to strangle her. It’s not so hard.” 

Wolfgang felt like the breath had been knocked out of him. She looked back at him and shrugged. “You can do anything, if you take them by surprise,” she added. 

“I’m going back to the club,” Wolfgang said slowly. “I need to find Felix.”

He expected her to follow him, but she didn’t. Instead, she slipped around a corner, leaving him with that final, disturbing thought. 

***

Now, the memory fades from his mind’s eye. “I had to learn from somewhere,” he says, to no one. He’s gotten too used to talking to himself. Wolfgang isn’t sure if it’s because he always had Felix with him, to listen to his thoughts, or if it’s because of the sensates. 

To say that he hadn’t thought about it in a long time would be a lie. But Wolfgang _tries_ not to think about that night. The first night he realized that killing his father could be a possibility. Maybe that was when he became a monster. He wonders where that woman is now. 

He finishes washing up, drying his hands thoroughly. Back in his room, he has an overnight bag and the address of a prestigious private hospital. It was time for another surprise.


End file.
